


Burnish

by HouseOfFinches



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Masturbation, Smut, This is why I’m sleep deprived, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseOfFinches/pseuds/HouseOfFinches
Summary: Kylo Ren uses their connection to warn Rey about an upcoming attack—what he finds surprises him. And her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be working on the second part of this shortly!  
> Credit to lethal-cuddles on Tumblr for idea :)

He made for his quarters, trying not to betray the rush of adrenaline he felt pumping below the surface of his carefully crafted mask. The sound of his boots echoed dully against the dark halls, a beat that was out of time, too slow to match his staggering heart.

 

The storm troopers fell to their places behind the entrance of his hall, white sentinels that gleamed like marble statues at the mouth of a tomb.

 

As he crossed the second set of doors, the _whoosh_  of cool air drying the sheen that heated his skin, he sought her out, flexing that vibrating line between their connection.

 

“Rey? Rey! Answer me!” He called for her, finding only a murky emotion at the other end, something that felt warm, airy.

 

“Rey, they are coming for you, you need to leave, _now!”_

He knew her location, the small part in the back of his mind always attuned to her, always sensing her presence. One of his commanders managed to locate her, given intel from a source planted within the small planet’s market.

 

She was on some mission. Alone. _Foolish_. She always took on more than she could handle, tried to find the good in the worlds around her. It would be her downfall. He sighed.

 

He pushed against their connection, forcing himself into her space the best way he knew how. He’d never had to fight this hard before. And it’s not like he’d ever been trained for this.

 

They hadn’t spoken in weeks, their last check-in a bitter memory, full of non answers. He feared the distance between them was only growing. Maybe their lack of contact made the connection weak, rusted from disuse.

 

He pushed harder, desperation coloring his thoughts, fueling his strength. 

 

Then he felt it, subtle, nuanced, like falling into a dream.

 

_Hot air, hanging heavy with water, steam. Something floral and fresh filled the small space, light and distinctly feminine. He heard dripping, swirling, the sound of water pattering to the ground before draining. He could see the light tile beneath her feet, the rivulets meeting in small pools before rushing away._

 

 _He saw her, he_ felt _her there, beneath the deluge of warm water, the way the stream beating against her shoulders soothed her. He felt the way she felt refreshed, relieved._

Relaxed _._

_It was the first shower she’d had in weeks, her skin reveling in its newfound freedom, open and receptive to the air, the last of the lather rinsing away._

 

He felt heat spread along his body, blood rushing to his face and pooling at the apex of his thighs. This was incredibly bad timing, but he couldn’t yet call to her, his curiosity winning over the sense of impending dread.

 

She was doing something, moving in a way that caught his attention and sent a surge of heat between his legs.

 

_One hand splayed against the cool tile, the other dipped lower, moving in gentle, rhythmic circles against her core._

He was mesmerized, unable to steal away his gaze despite knowing how wrong it was, how she’d never forgive him.

 

_She moaned lightly, barely a hush above the shower’s thrum, her fingers moving delicately against herself. He watched as her breathing began to speed, her eyes closed tightly as she was obviously nearing her peak._

_“Ben...” she sighed, the whisper nearly lost in her throat._

_A distant sound, a male voice, an order. The shuffle of boots, the droning of marching. She was being surrounded. She was unaware._

The sound of troops pulled him from his trance, freeing him from the way he was lost in the sight of her, the way he hoped to hear his name whispered again.

 

“Rey!” He shouted through the connection, watching as her body stiffened, her eyes wide with shock and confusion and something else—ah, shame—as she turned to stare at him.

 

“What are you—“

 

“I know what this looks like—but they are here. They have found you. Can you hear them?”

 

She turned to listen, fear breaking across her features. 

 

“Is there a way out?” He asked, not bothering the hide the panic that sent his heart racing.

 

She was half crouched, trying to hide her modesty from his eyes while devising a plan.

 

“I..I don’t think so. I hear them by both exits. How many are there?” Her eyes were still wide, frantic.

 

“Too many, Rey. Come here.” He demanded, holding out a hand to her.

 

“What?” She gasped at him, staring at his gloved hand.

 

“We don’t have any time. Let’s try.” It was the only option she had besides trying to fight a small legion.

 

One hand wrapped around her body, defensive, the other she extended to him as she closed the space between them.

 

“What do we do?” She whispered, the words coming out in a rush.

 

Even in the turmoil, her embrace, the sight of her small hand in his, sparked something within him. He hated it. He craved it.

 

“Try to focus, force yourself here with me.”

 

“There?! With you?” Distaste evident on her face. He tried not to let it burn at his ego.

 

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

 

Her eyes shifted down, away from him. She gripped him tighter, eyes closing, channeling that energy that buzzed around them.

 

He focused too, willing atoms to bend to his desire, to break the laws of the universe to obey him and him alone. 

 

Slowly the bathhouse drifted and blurred, the light walls of his room coming into focus, solidifying.

 

She started, eyes wide before reaching behind her, palm open. Her saber came flying in through the small opening that existed between his world and hers. She caught it, both of them watching as the window swirled closed, like the last of water circling a drain.

 

They were still gripping each other, her touch never lost on him. She was dripping, water pooling on the tile of his floor.

 

She was bare before him, skin pink and warm, a flush coloring her face and spreading down her neck, her chest. 

 

He averted his eyes before his gaze was pulled back to her face, her lips.

 

“Thank you.” It was genuine, almost awe-struck. He hated that she reacted this way when he helped her. It was selfishness that motivated him, not the light.

 

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at her, but the seriousness in her expression held him steady. She was looking up at him, looking at his mouth, and he could have sworn he felt her shift forward, lean into the space between them.

 

She blinked, shivered, removed her hand from its tight embrace around his arm to hug herself. 

 

“Can I have a towel?”

 

 Of course, he would oblige. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops this got entirely too long!  
> Oh well.  
> This is likely my last Reylo fic for the time being—I hope it’s okay!  
> I’ll be editing it tomorrow but in the meantime beware of typos!

He walked back to her, eyes on the ground, holding out the small stack of towels.

 

She grabbed one, hastily wrapping it around her self, tucking it in along her chest. She took another, blotting it against the tendrils of her water-darkened hair. 

 

He felt himself shifting his weight, anxious, uncomfortable.

 

The image of her, lean muscles and long legs, touching herself while whispering his name, tumbled into his consciousness, unbidden.

 

He felt his face warm. He staved off the thoughts as best he could while watching her now, her eyes roaming the space of his room. He hadn’t anticipated her seeing his quarters—it made him feel oddly vulnerable. 

 

She was half turned away from him, her eyes fixed on the window when she asked.

 

“How long?”

 

“How long what?”

 

“How long had you been there, watching me?” Pink spilled across her cheeks, belying her embarrassment.

 

“Long enough,” was his simple reply. He didn’t know what else to say, all thoughts were focused on her, the memory of her delicate fingers jumbling words before he could speak them.

 

She turned to him, eyes serious, questioning.

 

“You shouldn’t have been there alone,” he scolded. “Why didn’t you stop at a refresher like The fugitive you are? You know there is a bounty for you. One day I won’t be able to warn you.”

 

“Why did you?”

 

“You know why.” He always said too much when she was around. He wasn’t sure when she managed to work herself beneath his defenses, wasn’t sure why he felt she deserved his honesty. It was the least he could give her.

 

She approached him, her eyes looking up, full of questions and something else he couldn’t name. He hadn’t seen it there before.

 

She dropped the towel she used to dry her hair, bringing her arms around his waist, still watching him. She drew him close, resting her damp head against his chest.

 

He paused, caught off guard, unsure where to place his hands before settling on her back, mirroring the strength of her embrace.

 

“Why does it have to be like this?” She whispered into his shirt. His heart sped. Could she hear it pounding beneath her ear?

 

“It doesn’t have to be. You know that.” He was lost in the scent of her, that sweet smell from the shower stronger with her so close. Her warmth permeated his clothes, his skin, his heart.

 

He hated how much he needed this, needed more.

 

She would always be his weakness, he would always be burdened by the feelings he couldn’t let go when it came to her.

 

He ran his fingers over her hair, letting his touch graze the bare the skin of her neck, her shoulder. If feeling this way was shackles, he was willingly holding out his arms, waiting for her to turn the key.

 

Tentatively her grip around him loosened, one hand trailing its way up his stomach, his chest, settling along his jaw. She shifted to look up at him, that same unknown expression parting her lips and knitting her brows. 

 

He sensed it again, her shifting forward, _into_ his space, the atoms around them seeming to delight in the added tension in the air.

 

He watched her eyes close before her mouth met his, so soft and hesitant, as if nervousness restrained her.

 

Heat blossomed in his stomach, pulsing across his body and settling between his thighs. He heard himself sigh against her, his body seeming to rejoice at her touch, at the way his consciousness slipped to nothing but feeling: her lips against him, her skin beneath his fingers, her body pressing hard against his.

 

He was losing himself and he’d never felt more at peace.

 

She quickened the pace, both her thin arms laced around his neck, her tongue grazing his in ways that made him feel dizzy, weak.

 

He let his hands roam, reveling in the freedom of exploring her body: the toned lines of her hips, the delicate curve of her back, the supple skin of her neck. 

 

Emboldened, he planted kisses lower, down her jaw and along the column of her neck, spurred on by the speeding thrum of her pulse he felt under his tongue.

 

“Ben..” she sighed when he dragged his teeth upward before returning to her mouth, and the image of her in the shower sprung to his mind, making him strain painfully against his pants. 

 

Impulsively he picked her up, enjoying the way her legs wrapped around him automatically, as if they’d done this dance a hundred times. He felt the heat of her core, unrestricted, against his hardness, making his heart falter, skipping a beat at the sheer _sensation_ of it. 

 

He felt himself groan against her, her gasp of pleasure spurring him on. In a rush he placed her along his bed, enjoying the sight of the towel coming apart, her toned stomach and full breasts exposed to him once again. 

 

Without guilt coloring his thoughts, he could finally look at her, see her fully, the way the sun made her glow from the inside out, the way that training had made her formidable, strong.

 

Hastily she gripped him, pawing at the belt at his waist, desperate for him to be as exposed as she. He aided her, pulling his shirt over his head as she worked on his pants.

 

Cool air met his thighs followed by hot lips on his length, making him gasp at its suddenness. Her mouth was searing, his hands settling gently on her back as he fought the urge to thrust. She worked him slowly, teasingly, experimenting with mouth and tongue and sucking.

 

He needed more, needed to see her face in ecstasy, needed to feel her from the inside. He leaned back, withdrawing from her touch while pressing her back, lying her against his bed. Rashly he kicked off his pants before settling between her thighs, enjoying the way she parted her legs so readily for him.

 

He slid his palms up her legs, one hand seeking out her core, finding her slick and hot and willing. He watched as her head tilted back as he learned her, swirling his fingers in her wetness before dipping within her. He let his thumb draw rhythmic circles against the bud of nerves, rewarding himself with her moans, with the way her hips moved in time with his motions.

 

He watched as her breathing became erratic, her peak nearing like it had at the bathhouse. Then he stopped, enjoying the desperate look she shot him, a melding of anger and lust.

 

“Not yet,” he informed her. “I want to feel you.” He gripped himself, unsure if he’d ever been so hard before in his life, and lined up with her entrance. Teasingly he slid against her wet folds, taking in the way her breath hitched at the feel of him against her. 

 

Then he ended his own agony, pushing his way into her, lost to the world except for the way she was tight and burning around him. She moved her hips, calling for a pace that was hard and deep and reckless, and he complied, thrusts rough, bruising. Her nails bit his skin, her teeth nipped his neck, his collar, his arms, as if to displace the months of frustration somewhere physical, somewhere real. 

 

He let his gaze wander down, watching as she took all of him, the pleasure of her moans threatening to end him there. _Not yet, not yet_ , his personal mantra while she writhed below him, her hair a wild halo along the mattress, her body golden.

 

He traced open mouthed kisses along her throat, her chest, stopping briefly to nip and suck at her breast. She gave a throaty sigh, making him throb in time with his capricious heart. _Not yet, not yet._

He moved his mouth to hers, swallowing her moans greedily. His fingers returned to her core, mapping out his earlier path, making her arch against him.

 

“ _Please..”_ she breathed before gripping him, pulling him against her with arms and legs, and he felt her quiver below him, muscles tighten around him as she finally went over the edge.

 

He slid his arms around her, under her back, her shoulders, forcing all space between them closed as he pounded into her. It was no longer a matter of light and dark, right and wrong—it was simply her, in his bed, wanton and needy, a desperate plea between them that was human, animalistic. There was no room for thought, only feeling, and the feel of her was scalding bliss, a burning redemption that seared her name on his heart and stung at his eyes. 

 

And at the sound of his name from her lips— _Ben—_ he was lost to sensation, lost to anything that wasn’t her.

 

Moments later he recovered, their breathing slowly returning to normal, and he found himself reluctant to move, reluctant to allow any space between them again.

 

Absently, she drew small patterns along his skin, her fingers light and warm. She kissed him gently before grinning: “This really defeated the whole purpose of my shower.” 

 

“Fortunately for us, there is a shower here. I’d like to see more of how _you_ get clean.”

 

 


End file.
